


In Which Morgan Faces Several Problems at Once

by Untherius



Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: F/M, Magical technology, Marriage Proposal, Mermaids, Partial Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Untherius/pseuds/Untherius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like his father before him, Morgan Pendragon seems to have bitten off more than he can chew.  On the tail of his skirt-chasing days, he makes an astonishing discovery about his girlfriend.  On top of that, his ground-breaking blend of magic and technology may create more problems than it solves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Which Involves Girls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abluestocking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abluestocking/gifts).



> It was brought to my attention that I pushed the envelope too far in writing one of my Howl stories for a recent exchange. After some thoughtful consideration, I wrote this story. I hope its readers, and particularly its recipient, find it to be much more consistent with canon, much closer to the spirit of HMC, and much more to the recipient's liking.

Morgan Pendragon felt the arms around him relax as he and his passenger came to a stop. The heavy, frantic breathing, however, continued. A light jolt told him they'd touched down. He twisted in his seat, coming face-to-face with a pair of wide, blue, beautiful, terrified eyes.

“Well?” he said, once the low whine of the four fans surrounding them had faded, “how was it?”

The young lady facing him emitted a string of weak, high-pitched squeaks between gasps.

“That good?”

“ _NO!_ ” she finally shrieked.

Morgan sighed, then undid the straps holding himself and the girl into their respective seats. “She's just a prototype anyway.”

“I don't care!” the girl protested as Morgan helped her down to the ground.

“Shall I call on you again next week?” he said, bowing slightly and politely.

“I should say not!” said the girl, retreating as quickly as propriety would allow.

Morgan sighed again, and chuckled to himself. Then he maneuvered back into the large shed that served as his workshop, the four metal barrel-shaped structures fixed to his vehicle's corners pivoting at his command to supply the necessary directional thrust.

Sophie Pendragon stepped out from her kitchen garden just as the girl who'd been with Morgan reached out toward the gate latch. “Miss Agnew?” said Sophie. The girl looked up, her eyes still wide with fear. “Can I interest you in some chamomile tea?”

Miss Agnew stared at Sophie for a moment. “That's...that's really not necessary,” she finally said, once she'd found her voice.

“Nonsense,” said Sophie amiably. “It's the least I can do for my son's...indiscretion. And don't worry, I'll deal with him later. Just ask Orla...she knows what to do. And there are fresh vegetable pies and apple tarts on the counter. Do help yourself.”

Miss Agnew curtsied politely. “That's...awfully kind of you.”

“Think nothing of it,” said Sophie.

Morgan stepped out from his shop and caught his mother's gaze.

“One of these days,” said Sophie, as Morgan walked up to her, “chasing girls is going to catch up with you.”

“Oh, but it's so much fun.”

“If I'm not mistaken, that's what your father said before he met me. And I'm sure you know how that went.”

“But girls are so much more fun to torment.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “I'll remember that, should you have any daughters.”

Morgan grinned. “Besides, women are so much more interesting.”

“I should say so!” said a female voice from the general direction of the front gate.

Morgan and Sophie both turned to see an attractive young woman dressed in brown flying leathers. She carried a stiff leather helmet under one arm and a pair of multi-lens goggles rested atop her head. Her long, reddish-brown hair was tied back in a ponytail gathered at the nape of her neck. She walked crisply up the path and straight toward Morgan. “Missus Pendragon,” she said, nodding to Sophie.

“Miss Belian,” said Sophie amiably.

Miss Belian stopped a foot from Morgan and looked him dead in his pewter-amber eyes.

“Who was that?” she demanded, cocking her head toward the Pendragon house.

Morgan smirked. “Gwenliani,” he said, “how nice to see you!”

“I should hope so,” she said. “You did invite me, after all. But you haven't answered the question.”

“Oh, the girl?”

Gwenliani cocked her head and half-glared at Morgan.

“She's no one,” said Morgan.

Sophie cleared her throat.

“That is,” said Morgan, “no one important.”

Sophie cleared her throat again.

“Oh, very well,” said Morgan reluctantly, “she's the Mayor's daughter. There, are you both happy now?”

“Not in the slightest,” said Gwenliani.

Morgan leaned closer to her. “And what if I were to say that I have eyes only for you?”

“I'd say you're a bloody liar.”

“Oh, Gwenliani,” said Morgan, giving her his best doe-eyed expression, “you wound me.”

Sophie rolled her eyes.

Gwenliani peered at Morgan. “And you, mister, sound just like your father.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Gwenliani considered that for a moment, then grabbed Morgan and kissed him soundly. Morgan returned it enthusiastically. A moment became two, which became three, which stretched into a couple of minutes.

Sophie rolled her eyes again. At length, she said, “Are you two quite finished yet?”

Morgan and Gwenliani broke the kiss, both a bit out of breath. “No,” said Morgan, gazing into Gwenliani's large, gorgeous sea-green eyes, “not in the least.”

“Typical,” said Sophie.

Gwenliani pulled back slightly. “If I'm not mistaken,” she said with a smile, “you promised me something.”

“Ah, yes,” said Morgan smugly. “It's in there.” He nodded toward a large shed. The two of them started toward it when Sophie interrupted.

“Morgan?” she said. “May I have a word with you?”

“Of course, Mother,” said Morgan. He turned back to Gwenliani. “I'll be with you shortly, Gwena.”

“Just as long as you're with _me_ ,” she said with a smile. Morgan kissed her again before watching her go.

Gwenliani paused partway, looked over her shoulder at Morgan, cocked her hips in a way that made Morgan's pulse race, then continued toward the shed.

“Son?” said Sophie. She nearly had to physically pull Morgan's eyes off of Gwenliani's retreating figure.

“Yes, Mother?” he said, finally giving Sophie his full attention, or at least what passed for it with a seventeen-year-old young man.

“She's trouble,” said Sophie.

Morgan looked over his shoulder, then back to his mother. “I don't know,” he said with a grin, “I wouldn't mind getting into a little more trouble.”

“Then you'd better be fully prepared to make an honest woman out of her.”

Morgan laughed. “Mother, you wound me.”

“Hardly.”

“And what if I _do_ make an honest woman out of Gwena?”

Sophie looked toward the shed, then back at Morgan. “Then I suppose you'll be _her_ problem.”

“Are you sure it's not the other way round?”

“Quite sure.” Then she smiled broadly. “Frankly, I haven't the energy or the inclination to deal with both your father _and_ you. Especially with your brother, your sister, and whomever's in here.” She patted her pregnant belly. “Besides, you're almost eighteen.”

Morgan tipped his head back and laughed. “So you wouldn't object?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On you.”

“Oh?”

“If you want her, and I mean _really_ want her...and truly _love_ her...then you'd better stop inviting other females on your outings. Gwenliani won't stand for it and neither will I. And let's not start about her father.”

Morgan winced slightly. “I think that man would skin me alive as soon as look at me.”

“My father would have said much the same thing about yours.”

“Speaking of whom, why isn't he talking to me about this?”

Sophie's eyebrow went up. “Surely you jest.” Morgan smirked and Sophie giggled. “Morgan, you're just like your father. Well, mostly.”

“You mean besides my not having his fashion sense?”

Sophie snorted. “Oh, please. Your father just _thinks_ he has fashion sense. He really has nothing of the sort. I just smile, nod, and save my energies for things that _truly_ matter. Like Miss Belian in there.” She nodded toward the shed.

“Speaking of whom...” said Morgan, looking in that direction.

“Yes, yes,” said Sophie, giving Morgan a shooing motion, “go on. Just mind your manners.”

Morgan turned to go, but paused. “Just why is it you're out here?”

“Oh,” said Sophie casually, “I had a few things to do in the garden. Also, I saw you tearing about on that flying contraption of yours and heard the terrified screams of poor Miss Agnew. Calcifer thought I should ride herd on you. Naturally, I told him that was nonsense, but he was rather insistent. You know how he is.”

Morgan chuckled. “He can be worse than Father.”

“Quite. The question is, _do_ I need to ride herd on you, as he put it? And, no you don't have to answer me, but you _do_ have to answer, if only to yourself.”

Morgan nodded. “And by the way, that's not the flying contraption.” He grinned. “That's what I want to show Gwena.”

“Just don't break your neck. If you do, I promise you I shall find a way for my ghost to eternally haunt yours in the hereafter.”

Morgan laughed and hugged his mother. “I love you, Mum.” He kissed her on the cheek, then turned and trotted toward the shed.

Sophie shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Children!”

* * *

Morgan strolled into the small barn that functioned as his workshop.

Gwenliani stood there, hands on her hips, looking as attractive as ever, her ponytail draped artfully over one shoulder. “You're late,” she teased.

Morgan shrugged.

“So what is it you're going to show me?”

Morgan grinned and walked over to a large, tarpaulin-covered hulk on the opposite side of the building. He pulled off the tarpaulin and grinned.

Gwenliani didn't have any more idea of what it was with the tarp off than she had before. “And just what _is_ that?”

Morgan beamed. “It's a...it's...erm...well, it's...actually, I don't know what it is.”

Gwenliani raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you built it.”

“I did.”

“You built it and you don't know what it is? Maybe your mother's right about you.”

Morgan tipped his head inquisitively.

“Maybe you _are_ just like your father.”

Morgan smiled, then stepped over and kissed Gwenliani.

“So,” she said at length, “don't tell me I got all gussied up in my leathers just so we could stand here and snog.”

Morgan smiled. “Come now, Gwena, you know how I feel about that. That's not a bad idea, though.”

Gwenliani laughed. “Oh, I see. You just like looking at me in leather, is that it?”

Morgan grinned. “Actually,” he evaded, “I'd like to take you flying.”

Gwenliani looked at the whatever-is-was and then back at Morgan. “And how does _this_ figure into that?”

“I may not know what that is, but I _do_ know what it _does_.”

“Which is...?”

“It flies,” said Morgan smugly.

“Isn't that what that other thing does?” Gwenliani cocked a thumb at the other machine across the room.

“No,” said Morgan. “That...uh...hovers. _This_...” He stepped over and patted his other creation. “...flies...fast and high.”

Gwenliani peered at it. It was the strangest thing she'd ever seen. She'd grown up around the Pendragons, so that was saying something. The core of the device was a metal cylinder more than two of her arm-spans long and roughly half an arm-span in diameter. The front end was recessed. At the center of the recess rose a cone that protruded past its end. Surrounding the base of the cone was what looked like a series of leaves in a fanned-out arrangement. The external surface of the cylinder was covered with strange-looking fins and other protrusions. The back end was surrounded by several overlapping plates.

The cylinder was supported by a frame made of angle-iron. Gwenliani recognized the welded joints. She'd helped Morgan do enough of it on other projects and, while welding was quite rare in her world, Morgan had assured her that it was done in his father's world all the time. Atop the cylinder sat a small platform with a pair of sturdy metal chairs, one mounted in front of the other, and some other odd-looking protrusions in front of the foremost one.

“It's...kind of ugly,” she said.

Morgan chuckled. “She might not look like much, but she's got it where it counts.” He stepped around toward the back and braced his hands on the cart on which it rested. Gwenliani joined him. “Oh, and we're going to have to use magic to push this thing outside.”

“Why?”

“Because it weighs four thousand pounds.”

“What?”

“That's more than a pair of oxen.”

“Then why didn't you say so?”

“I _did_ say so.”

Gwenliani rolled her eyes. She looked from Morgan to the contraption on the cart, then back to Morgan. “Darling, I know you and your father are both very powerful wizards and all. And you know I've done a fair bit of traveling. But I've never seen anything even remotely like this.”

“No one has.”

“I sense you're just itching to tell me more.”

Morgan grinned. “For starters,” he said, “she has a Pratt-and-Whitney F-one-hundred low-bypass turbofan engine, capable of delivering more than seventeen thousand foot-pounds of thrust and going from zero to Mach-five in under five minutes.”

Gwenliani blinked at Morgan. “You do realize,” she said, “that I have absolutely no idea what you just said.”

Morgan shrugged. “Neither do I.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well...that's what Neil said it was.”

Gwenliani rolled her eyes. “I should have known something like this would have come from there. You know, I still think you've been spending entirely too much time in that Wales country.”

“Nonsense. You were indisposed for the last month, too. Besides, this might save both our worlds. And I really should take you there sometime. It's a strange place, but you might like it.” He pulled back slightly and gathered some magical energy. “Ready?” he said.

Gwenliani set her helmet on the cart, stepped back, and gathered some energy herself. “Ready.”

“Go!” Together, they shoved their magic at the cart. It lurched forward and they threw their bodies against it. Slowly, the whole thing rolled outside. Once clear of the doors, they swiveled the cart ninety degrees, then stopped for a breather.

“How'd you get this thing back from Wales, anyway?”

“It was complicated.”

“I don't doubt it. And you say it's supposed to fly?” said Gwenliani.

Morgan nodded. “Not supposed to... _will_.”

“I hope you know I think you're mad.”

“Why?”

“You're a wizard and you need this...” She gestured at their load. “...to fly?”

“Well....”

“Why not just do it?” Gwenliani gave a tiny hop and hovered a few inches above the ground.

Morgan stared at her. “You know what it does to me when you do that, don't you?”

Gwenliani smiled. “Of course I do,” she teased. “Why do you think I do it?”

Morgan grabbed Gwenliani, tipped her backward, and kissed her soundly. The two of them hovered above the ground for several minutes before settling gently back to earth.

“I think,” said Gwenliani breathlessly, “that we'd better stop before we do something we'd regret.”

“Gwena, dear, you have no idea how much I want to do something we'd regret.”

“Oh, I'm pretty sure I do.”

“Don't you?”

Gwenliani tittered. “Of course I do! That's why we should stop.”

Morgan exhaled heavily. “You're absolutely right, though.”

“Of course I am.” She smiled at him.

He stood her up. “Please don't smile at me like that...not right now.”

Morgan walked around to the front of his contraption and pulled a copper rod off the cart. “And for the record, it just so happens that I _do_ like seeing you in leather.”

“I thought so! But you like seeing me in anything, don't you?”

“Yes. And more to the point, I'd like seeing you out of it, too.” Morgan grinned mischievously.

“I'm sure you would.”

Morgan glanced at his creation and then back at Gwenliani. “You'd better keep clear of the rear of the aircraft.”

Gwenliani crossed her arms and peered at Morgan, then joined him at its front. “I thought you said you didn't know what this was.”

Morgan took a deep breath. She looked extremely attractive like that. Maybe his mother was right. No, on second thought, his mother was definitely right. He really did need to make an honest woman out of Gwena and soon...very soon.

“And why,” Gwenliani added, “do I need to stand clear of the rear of the...er...aircraft?”

“Well...normally these things run on jet fuel and...”

“Morgan,” said Gwenliani impatiently, “would you _please_ speak in the Common Tongue?”

Morgan sighed and planted one end of the copper rod on the ground and leaned on it. “You know how our world and Father's are similar, yet different?”

Gwenliani nodded.

“Well, in his world, they use combustible liquids to power a lot of their machinery. They pump this thick, black fluid out of the ground, separate it into a bunch of other fluids, and then use each one for a different thing. Think of whale oil, but highly explosive.”

“Wait,” said Gwena, “first you tell me you brought this thing...” She nodded at the engine. “...from Wales. Then you say it runs on something that explodes?”

Morgan nodded.

“Isn't that dangerous?”

“Uh...why would it be?”

“First of all, you've brought otherworldly machinations into our own. Second of all, there's the part where it runs on something that explodes.”

“Well, it's _supposed_ to run on jet fuel. But I, naturally, have modified it to run on magic. That thing, too.” He gestured toward the other vehicle he'd been operating earlier.

“Naturally,” said Gwenliani dubiously.

“Erm...I'll explain later. In the meantime...” He settled his own goggles over his eyes and clicked a set of dark-colored lenses—the ones he used for welding—into place. Gwenliani did the same.

Morgan pulled on a pair of thick, leather gloves, then raised the copper rod over his head and began to spin it--slowly at first, then faster and faster. It hummed in a low D-minor. It started glowing a dull blue color. Without warning, bright white energy erupted all along its length, lancing out into the air around it. After a minute or so, Morgan planted one end of it onto the cone at the cylinder's center and the energy began to flow into it through the rod.

A low hissing sound came from the engine as something inside it began to move. Gwenliani watched as the fan-shaped blades around the cone began to turn, slowly at first, then faster and faster. The sound increased and grew in pitch until it more or less matched the sound of wheels rolling along a set of railroad tracks. The light subsided and Morgan placed the rod back onto the cart. The fan inside the cylinder's recess continued to spin while something inside glowed with a blue-green light.

He retracted the tinted lenses, then pulled out a small stepping stool, set it down, then gestured toward the cart and held out a hand. “Your chariot awaits, my lady!” he said, raising his voice a little.

Gwenliani smiled. She retrieved her helmet and settled it onto her head, buckling the chin strap securely. She pulled a pair of doeskin gloves from her belt, slipped them on, then took Morgan's hand and leaped up onto the cart, ignoring the stool completely. Looking up, she then performed a skillfully-executed four-point climb up the side of the cylinder. Morgan watched her intently, reflecting on how magnificent she was. Once at the top, she turned and Morgan gestured toward the rear-most of the pair of chairs mounted to the top. She took it while Morgan clambered up after her. He grinned and then seated himself in front.

“Strap in!” he called over his shoulder.

Gwenliani complied, pulling a pair of leather straps over her shoulders and connecting them in across her body with a clasp that buckled at her chest.

Morgan strapped himself into his own seat, then secured his own helmet and readjusted his goggles. He tied a woolen scarf over his mouth and nose, then gestured for Gwenliani to do the same.

Then Morgan grasped a metal rod in front of him and pulled it up. The contraption rose slightly with a gentle bump. Then he pushed forward on another lever. The hissing sound coming from the engine beneath them rose in pitch as they began to move forward.

Before long, they were hurtling through the air at astonishing speed. Morgan pulled back on another lever and they tilted upward, shooting skyward, the ground below quickly retreating. Up, up, up they went, the engine screaming its high-pitched whine and streaming magical energy and compressed air out its aft end. The sky's blue progressively darkened and the air grew cold and thin. Just when Morgan thought they might either freeze or suffocate, he abruptly throttled back.

They hung in the sky briefly, weightless. Morgan clenched his throat. Maybe that part had been a bad idea. Presently, however, they began to drop and Morgan tipped the craft forward.

Gwenliani let out a loud “ _WHOO-HOO!_ ”

Morgan eased the throttle forward and the engine wound up again as they hurtled downward. The ground rose toward them.

Morgan pulled up, leveling off just high enough to clear the hills of Ingary. Then he raised his hand and erected a magical force shield in front of him and Gwenliani. “Hold on!” he called over his shoulder. Then he shoved the throttle forward.

The whole craft shook violently as the engine whirred, whined, and growled beneath them. They shot ahead at many times a horse's gallop. Soon, a blue-ish halo appeared around the front of the craft. Then it abruptly shifted aft.

Morgan heard Gwenliani let out another shriek behind him. He smiled to himself. He knew that sound. She'd made it the first time they'd gone cliff-diving...and when she'd fired off her first home-built siege engine...and when she'd first flown under her own power...and when she'd been the first person ever to reach the summit of Mount Loriman without the aid of magic...and when she'd first flown a throndrakal without supervision...and when she'd shattered the world record in the women's rowing competition. He loved that sound. He loved _her_.

They shot out across the beach and Morgan dropped right to the deck. He watched in satisfaction as the shock-wave around them sent the seawater spraying upward on both sides. He abruptly tipped them sideways, feeling the sudden centrifugal forces press him into his seat as they swung around, water spraying outward. Gwenliani shrieked again.

Morgan tipped them back the other direction, shoved the throttle all the way forward and they shot further out to sea. The waves raced beneath them at unimaginably blinding speed. After a while, they passed beneath the leading edge of a storm front and they began to buck about from the turbulence.

Morgan throttled back, wheeled the craft about, water spraying back, then lit out again back the direction they'd come. Their path was marked by a cloud of water vapor and suspended ice crystals and Morgan simply followed that back to shore. Crossing the beach once more, Morgan pulled up a bit and throttled back, the blue-white halo jumping forward to dissipate in front of them.


	2. In Which Morgan Takes the Plunge

Morgan strolled casually into the living room. Before him hovered a tea tray holding a teapot, three teacups, a few small plates, and a selection of seasonal fruit tarts, savory root vegetable pasties, kelp-wrapped salmon rolls, and whole-grain cucumber sandwiches. Morgan nodded to the tray and it settled itself onto the coffee table. At least, his father called it a coffee table.

Orla had dismounted from Gwenliani's lap and had seated herself on the sofa. Gwenliani had joined her. Morgan supposed that was for the best. His parents had a strict “no snogging indoors” policy, which really applied only to Morgan, as his parents were married and his siblings were still too young for that sort of thing. Having Orla in the room usually helped keep Morgan on his best behavior.

Gwenliani distributed small plates while Morgan poured three cups of tea, serving his sister, then Gwena, then himself before sitting down on the sofa next to his lady. He said a blessing over it, then watched out of the corner of his eye as his companions daintily tucked into their own food. He smiled.

Orla was usually perfectly behaved when there was company, particularly when that company was Gwenliani. Gwena was downright intoxicating. Morgan had no idea how she managed to be so ladylike even when comporting herself so otherwise. He was half-glad his sister was there. Otherwise, he'd have been very hard-pressed to observe that “no snogging” rule, which was difficult enough as it was.

They'd just about finished a first round of tarts and pasties when the front door opened.

“Oh, hello, Mother,” said Morgan.

“Mama!” squealed Orla. The girl quickly placed her cup and saucer on the table, bounced up, and rushed over to her mother.

Sophie caught her daughter and hugged her. Sophie set down the basket she'd been carrying, nudged the door closed with her foot, and knelt down to look her daughter in the eye. “Hello, Orla, dear. Have you been a good girl this morning?”

Orla nodded, her hair catching the light as it bobbed. Sophie noticed the girl had even remembered to use her napkin.

“Your daughter is delightful, Missus Pendragon,” said Gwenliani.

“Thank-you, dear,” said Sophie. “But when you're in my home, please call me Sophie. Especially seeing as you're...attached...to my son.” Sophie grinned. She really liked Gwenliani. She was charming, intelligent, mature, pretty, and had an unarguably positive influence on Morgan. The two of them had grown up together. Orla and her older brother Aldhelm regarded her like an older sister. So she was more or less part of the family already.

Gwenliani smiled sheepishly. “My apologies, Sophie. It's...a habit.”

“Fair enough,” said Sophie. She rose to her feet and took Orla's hand in one of hers and the basket in the other and walked across the room. “There's no need to apologize, though.”

Releasing Orla and the basket again, Sophie gave Gwenliani a firm hug. The younger woman returned it, which was something else Sophie appreciated. While Gwenliani always made an effort to mind her manners and observe all the social proprieties, Sophie could always tell it was mostly a facade. Gwenliani was very much her own woman and really didn't give a rat's tail about any of that. Rather, she preferred to be genuinely respectful, treating people as they both wished and deserved to be treated, instead of how some long list of social niceties instructed her to do. Sophie just wished Morgan would hurry up and propose marriage to Gwenliani. Not that Sophie would actually say it, though she'd come close a few times. No, on second thought, Sophie _would_ actually say it, probably would, and probably soon.

Morgan retreated into the kitchen to fetch another cup and saucer for his mother, who accepted it graciously. She took a sip of Morgan's tea and smiled. “You do have a way with tea, son.”

Morgan shrugged. “It's nothing.”

“He's too modest,” said Gwenliani. “Morgan makes the best tea I've ever had. I particularly appreciate its complexity.”

Sophie smiled. “You know, that's what my husband says.”

“Well,” said Gwenliani, “we all know how he is about complexity.” That brought a round of chuckles.

“I think some might call it lavish, yet tasteful,” said Morgan.

“Personally,” said Gwenliani, “I prefer simple, yet elegant.”

“Howl would settle for cheap, yet expensive,” said Sophie. That brought another round of laughter.

“I've never quite understood that,” said Gwenliani.

“I've known him all my life,” said Morgan, “and I don't understand it either.”

“Now,” said Sophie, as she settled herself on a chair across the table from Morgan and Gwenliani, “tell us about your little outing. I know Morgan's been itching to give that thing a real spin, as it were.”

Gwenliani smiled broadly. Her account of her ride on Morgan's flying machine began sedately enough, but she quickly began to grow excited. The more she told, the more animated she became. It seemed to Sophie that Gwenliani was making a serious effort to contain herself, which she found amusing.

“...and when we reached zenith,” said Gwenliani, “we just...hung there! Weightless! It was incredible! And then we fell... _fast_!” Sophie watched her face light up. “I even squealed. Not very ladylike, I know, but it was just so much fun! And then when we broke the sound barrier...” Sophie noticed the young woman's chest was heaving. She knew that symptom all too well.

Gwenliani turned to Morgan, grabbed him by his shirt, and kissed him passionately. She held him like that for a couple of minutes as she ran her fingers through his silvery hair. Morgan lost himself in it, too.

Sophie rolled her eyes. Despite the “no snogging” rule, she held her tongue a bit longer than she'd have preferred. The two of them were sickeningly adorable and Sophie found their behavior both endearing and amusing, even if not entirely proper.

“Eeeww!” said Orla.

Sophie smiled. Orla always reacted that way to kissing, no matter how often she saw it or who was doing the kissing. Goodness knew her brother and Gwenliani could barely keep their hands...and lips...off of each other. There'd even been a couple of times the girl had walked into her parents' room while they were in each others' amorous embrace. Sophie knew her little girl would change her mind one day and that it would come far sooner than either she or Howl would prefer.

Gwenliani broke the kiss first. “Morgan, I want to have your babies!” she declared, still looking into his eyes.

“Oh, good heavens!” said Sophie. Gwenliani winked at Orla, who tittered. “I'm beginning to think,” said Sophie to Morgan, “that your father might be right.”

“How's that?” said Morgan, not taking his eyes off of Gwenliani.

“Maybe you two _should_ go off and elope.”

Morgan and Gwenliani looked at Sophie. “I thought,” said Gwenliani, “that you didn't approve of that sort of thing.”

“Oh, I don't,” said Sophie. “But if you two don't do something about all that pent-up emotion...and so on...I daresay you'll explode! I know I've said I wanted this one...” She patted her baby bulge. “...to know you as a single sibling. But they way you're going, I'm half surprised he or she doesn't already have a cousin!”

Morgan and Gwenliani looked at each other and shrugged.

“Does this mean,” said Morgan, “that we may snog in the house?”

“Absolutely not,” said Sophie. “When you have your own house, then you may snog anywhere you like.”

Morgan grinned and Sophie rolled her eyes. Some days, she rolled her eyes so much, she half thought they might actually stick that way.

“You mean,” said Morgan, “like that time I caught you and Father on the ceiling?”

Sophie blushed. “Well...you do know you were all conceived on the ceiling, don't you?”

“Mother!”

“You brought it up, Morgan, dear.” Sophie leaned toward Gwenliani. “You two should try it...when you're properly wed, of course.” Gwenliani blushed and Sophie smiled. “Which reminds me, Morgan...have you asked her father about that?”

“He hasn't asked _me_ ,” said Gwenliani.

“But...” said Morgan.

“Morgan,” said Gwenliani, “you know I've never been a typical woman.”

“And that's one of the things I love about you.”

“I know. But I still insist that you ask me properly. And you've known me long enough to know what I consider to be proper when it comes to that sort of thing.”

Morgan smiled. “To answer your question, Mother, no, I haven't. I'm...erm...almost afraid.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “So you'll go hurtling through the sky faster than sound on some engine you acquired from Wales by means about which I'm not sure I want to know, and with Mister Belian's unchaperoned daughter, and you're afraid to ask him for permission to marry her?”

“Erm...” said Morgan.

“Morgan, dear,” said Sophie, “get over it.” Then after a moment, “Don't let on I told you, but he's actually more annoyed that you _haven't_ asked yet. He hasn't said as much, but I can tell. So you'd better go and do it. Oh, I expect he'll still make you squirm, don't get me wrong. And between us, it's an awful lot of fun watching you do it. Besides, Gwena has suitors lined up across town.”

“She's right,” said Gwenliani. “I've had two proposals this week alone. Strictly speaking, I can't keep saying 'no' forever. I even overheard my parents discussing making an arrangement with some banker's son.” She rolled her eyes. “So you see, Darling, the pressure, as they say, is on.”

Gwenliani reached up and mussed Morgan's hair, its silvery threads now sticking out in all directions.

“Aph!” said Morgan, reaching up to smooth it down again, not that it was at all smooth in the first place. “I work hard to keep my hair tidy,” he said.

Gwenliani stuck her tongue out slightly between her teeth and batted her eyelashes at Morgan, who squirmed noticeably.

Sophie raised her hand to her mouth and tittered. It was so much fun spending time with those two. They were so made for each other, it wasn't even funny...well, actually, it was.

“Speaking of hair,” said Gwenliani, “has your Aunt Megan forgiven you for turning hers pink and green?”

“I was five!” Morgan protested. “But, no, I don't think she has. She almost did, until she discovered it was permanent. And then when my cousin Dillena was born with pink and green hair...well, Neil says Megan wanted to throttle me. It's a good thing Dillena's a girl.”

Gwenliani tipped her head back and laughed. “Oh, Morgan, your family's so funny! I hope you know how glad I am to be a part of it.”

Morgan nodded and smiled. Yes, he was certainly going to have to propose to his Gwena and soon. He really couldn't imagine being with anyone else, nor could he imagine her being with anyone else. Sure, it was fun tormenting girls a year or three his junior. But none of them held a candle to his Gwena. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure he wasn't her Morgan. But he didn't care. They were each other's each other and that was probably all that mattered.

“So,” said Gwenliani, “what was that you were saying about solving two problems at once?”

“Ah, yes,” said Morgan. “Well, you know how we're kind of stuck with the same old slow ways of moving things from one place to another, yes?” Gwenliani nodded. “And you know how that's limiting urban growth, yes?”

She nodded again. “Are you sure that's necessarily a bad thing? You've told me yourself that urban sprawl is a problem in your father's world. Why would we want that here?”

“Well...you're right, we don't. But Father's world also has more than seven billion people.”

“Seven... _billion_?!” said Gwenliani. “Morgan, you really haven't been telling me much about that world of his.”

“Don't know a lot about it myself, really. But as for those problems it's having...well, remember what I've been saying about what they use for energy?”

“Yes,” said Gwenliani.

“Well, it's catching up to them. There's all this talk of clean, renewable energy.”

“What about magic?”

“They don't believe in it,” said Sophie.

“What? That's ridiculous!”

“I agree,” said Morgan. “But it's the truth. Hardly anyone there thinks magic is real, let alone that one could actually do anything useful with it. They don't take it seriously. Those few of us who know better fear that world will destroy itself it if doesn't, as Neil puts it, pull the gherkins out of their arses.”

“Morgan!” said Gwenliani. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Erm...”

“And you'd better watch it if you expect to continue to kiss me with it. And what's a gherkin?”

“It's a small pickled cucumber.”

Gwenliani made a face. “That sounds incredibly uncomfortable.”

“Quite,” said Morgan. “The other problem is that I can count on two hands the number of people in either world who know the other even exists. And that's despite the fact that they've invented, or so they think, the concept of the Multiverse.”

“Let me get this straight,” said Gwenliani, “they deny the existence of magic, have no idea my world exists, and they'd rather destroy themselves than admit that?”  
“Basically.”

Gwenliani rolled her eyes. “Oh, goodness! I have yet to visit Wales and I already think it's a strange place.”

“Apparently, there are some even stranger places. Across the ocean from Wales is another country called the United States of America. They have a city they call Las Vegas, which is widely regarded as the strangest place in their whole world. Or maybe it's just called Vegas...it's a bit confusing...like I said, very strange place. I really don't know why, but the way Neil talks about it and the way Nalaya twitches whenever he does, I'm quite sure I never want to go there.”

“And yet you want to take me there?”

“To Wales, Gwena, not to Vegas.”

Gwenliani regarded Morgan for a moment. “I'll consider it, but only for a short while.”

“The point is,” said Morgan, “that those two machines of mine out there could revolutionize transportation in both our worlds and solve a lot of problems at once.”

“That's all very interesting, Dearest, but do you have a plan for that?”

“I'm still working on it.”

“Speaking of working on things,” said Gwenliani, “I should probably be getting on home.” She set her cup and saucer on the table and rose gracefully. Morgan followed. “Sophie, Orla, it's been a pleasure, as always. Morgan, it's been more than a pleasure.” She kissed Morgan, scooped up her helmet, gloves, and goggles, then levitated across the room toward the door while Morgan stared after her. She alighted in front of it, smiled at him, then departed.

Morgan exhaled, then began to bus the dishes.

“I can do that if you want,” said Sophie. It wasn't that she minded her son being responsible. She just had a fairly good idea of what was on his mind.

“No, that's alright, Mother. I could use a bit of...diversion. I still need to push my machine back into the shed, too, though.”

“You really should give those things dignified names,” said Sophie. “Saying that you don't know what they are won't go over well with most people. That goes particularly for the ones who have the resources to make it all come together.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” he said as he carried the empty tea tray back to the kitchen. Sophie and Orla followed.

“Morgan,” said Sophie, “I think Orla and I can handle the washing. Go do something else.”

“Like what?”

“You're a bright young man. You'll think of something.”

Morgan shrugged and got out of his mother's way. He knew enough to recognize when it was best to do so, though he was quite sure his father hadn't quite learned it. He kissed his mother on the cheek, his sister on the top of the head, and then went outside.

* * *

“Gwenliani Belian, will you marry me?”

Gwenliani considered the young man kneeling before her. He was squirming...and sweating. Morgan would never sweat...at least, not doing that. It was odd, really. While she rather enjoyed seeing Morgan squirm, she found it to be completely off-putting from anyone else. She decided to be expeditious instead. “No, Mister Larabe,” she said, “I don't believe I will.”

Mr. Larabe blinked. “What?”

Seriously? “I said, 'no.'”

“But...” he spluttered. “Please?”

“No,” she said.

“Pretty please?”

Gwenliani firmly, but politely pulled her hand from Mr. Larabe's, then crossed her arms in a rather unladylike manner. “Mister Larabe,” she said sternly, “you're groveling. That's pathetic. I won't marry a man who grovels. Neither should any other lady. Good day, Mister Larabe.” At that, she turned on her heels, her skirts twirling about her, and strode off down the street.

In truth, she felt a little sorry for the poor man. But not even remotely sorry enough to even begin to consider changing her mind. The trouble was, most of the men who'd proposed to her, and there'd been many, had been like that. They all seemed just a little...or in several cases a lot...too desperate...or too timid...or too something else. She was fairly certain more than half of them were far more interested in the social or economic merits of being her husband than they were in her as a person. No, Gwenliani demanded that any husband of hers have at least as much respect for himself as she did for herself.

She walked down the street, enjoying the low-pitched, thumping sound her shoes made against the cobbles, the way her skirts swished around her legs, and the way the sun and breeze danced across her bare décolletage. It was one of those days she thoroughly enjoyed being a woman, annoying marriage proposals notwithstanding.

She strode into her father's law office like she owned the place. As she stood to inherit, she pretty much _did_ own it. Not that it was likely to happen for a good long while, but it never hurt to maintain an air of confidence. Fortunately--or, perhaps, unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it--confidence had never been a problem for Gwenliani.

She knocked politely on her father's office door and waited.

“Yes?” came his voice from within.

She opened the door, stepped inside, then closed it behind her.

“Gwenny, dear,” said her father, “you look radiant! How are you? And how'd it go?”

“Thank-you, Father, you flatter me. I'm fine, and you? And I suppose it depends on your perspective.” Gwenliani had long ago become accustomed to her father asking multiple questions at once, though most people still found it a bit confusing.

Mr. Belian looked at his daughter for a moment. “You refused, didn't you?”

“I did.”

Mr. Belian sighed. “Gwenny...”

“I know what you're going to say.”

“Please don't interrupt me,” he said sternly.

“I'm sorry, Father,” she said evenly. “Do continue.”

“Your mother and I want you to be happy. We really do. But you've turned down nearly every man in town and quite a few from elsewhere. You've had more marriage proposals than anyone I've ever known...or so says your mother. And I believe it. Half the men who've come to me about your hand have run out screaming. Half of the other half apparently lacked the guts to follow through. Of those who've actually proposed to you, half of them never talked to me first.”

“Can you blame them?”

Mr. Belian raised an eyebrow before continuing. “Your mother and I can't continue to cover for you. You're the most unconventional woman in town, possibly in all of Ingary and beyond. Yet you seem to be the most sought-after unmarried woman...and arguably the most difficult, or so I've overheard. But you need to marry.”

“I think the right man just hasn't asked me yet.”

“Well, then he'd better hurry up and do it. I know you're not quite eighteen and even when you are, you won't be so forever.”

Gwenliani knew her father was right. So she changed the subject. “You know, father, turning down marriage proposals always works up an appetite.” Mr. Belian chuckled at that. “Shall I go and fetch us something to eat?”

“Oh, yes, that would be much appreciated. I have a meeting later this afternoon, but little more than busy work in the meantime.”

“I won't be long. Good day, Father.”

“Good day to you, too, dear.”

Gwenliani turned and politely took her leave.

Ten minutes later, another knock sounded on Mr. Belian's door. “Yes?” he said.

The door opened and a plainly-but-neatly-dressed young man with silvery hair stepped into the office. Mr. Belian immediately recognized him as Morgan Pendragon. Not only was there only one other young man with silver hair, Morgan's younger brother Aldhelm, their respective families had been friends for years.

Morgan was likely there for one reason and it was about bloody time. He liked Morgan a lot. He had, in Mr. Belian's view, the best qualities of both his parents. He'd be a very good match for Gwenliani. They'd been practically joined at the hip ever since they'd met as young children anyway. He knew it was a vast understatement to say that his daughter and Morgan had eyes for each other. Mr. Belian suppressed his urge to smile. All things being equal, he still greatly enjoyed making young men squirm. “Good afternoon, Mister Pendragon,” said Mr. Belian. “How may I help you?”

“If you have a moment...or twenty...I'd like to talk to you about your daughter.”

Mr. Belian rested his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers. “Would you, now?”

“I would.”

Mr. Belian nodded to Morgan.

“I request permission to marry your daughter Gwenliani.”

Mr. Belian cocked an eyebrow. That was the first time any of his daughter's suitors had been so direct...and confident, but without being overly so. That was another thing he liked about Morgan. While he could be indecisive, when he finally made up his mind about something, he was fully committed to it. “And if I refuse?”

“Would you?” Morgan's tone was not one of alarm. Nor was it necessarily one of defiance, either. Rather, it said he knew what he wanted and wouldn't stop until he had it. He also suspected that Morgan knew Mr. Belian wasn't really going to say “no.”

“I might,” said Mr. Belian. He was going to draw it out, partly on general principle, partly to make Morgan work for it, and partly because he wanted to see if he could make the young man squirm. Most men who'd approached him about his daughter were already squirming by the time they'd walked through his door. Not Morgan. He seemed perfectly calm.

“Why? Gwenliani and I know each other, understand each other, and love each other. We even like each other, which is more than I can say for over half of all couples I've ever met. She's also the most remarkable, beautiful, amazing woman I've every met.”

“I'm flattered, Mister Pendragon. And what if I still say no?”

“Father thinks we should elope.”

“Does he, now?” That was the first he'd heard of that. “And would you?”

“I don't know. I've been rather intent on avoiding that decision.”

Mr. Belian noticed that so far, Morgan had not once addressed him as, “sir.” Most young men practically tripped over the word. Morgan, on the other hand, was direct, yet still respectful. Mr. Belian didn't know many adults his own age who managed it half as well as Morgan did. Mr. Belian was impressed, now more than ever. More than half of his daughter's suitors had been in far better social and financial position than Morgan. Yet Mr. Belian considered Morgan to be a better man.

Mr. Belian remained silent for a few moments. He let those moments stretch into the better part of a minute, then two. Morgan didn't so much as twitch. At length, Mr. Belian said, “No.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, but otherwise maintained his composure. “You mean to push the elopement issue, then?”

“You're that serious about marrying my daughter, are you?”

“I've never been more serious about anything in my life.”

Mr. Belian considered that for a moment. “What's your favorite thing about my daughter?”

“Just so we're clear,” said Morgan, “you haven't switched daughters on me, have you?”

Mr. Belian chuckled slightly. Morgan was quick. “No, no. We're still talking about Gwenliani.”

“Good. Because I could talk about her all day.”

Mr. Belian suppressed a smile. Morgan seemed dead serious about that. “So answer the question.”

“Where do I begin?”

“That's the question, isn't it?”

“I can't think of anything I _don't_ like about her. We've grown up together. I know everything about her, and still love her, which is more than I can say about any other man, with the exception of yourself.”

“Are you sure you know everything?” Mr. Belian was quite sure there was one thing no one outside the family, not even Morgan, knew about Gwenliani. He was just as sure Morgan would be quite alarmed once he found out, which was certain to happen eventually if the two of them were to wed. The trouble was, he wasn't sure Morgan could handle it. That was saying something, as Morgan had more substance than all of Gwenliani's prior suitors put together.

Mr. Belian had been gambling for the past three years, ever since Gwenliani had come of marriageable age. He'd been watching both his daughter and Morgan, as the two of them had always been very close. He'd been increasingly convinced that she'd be loath to consider marriage to anyone but him. So he'd been careful to give his consent only to those suitors he knew would be rejected. Of course, there'd been others who'd not asked and who'd proposed anyway. Fortunately, they, too, had been rejected. Mr. Belian had rather lost count.

“I'm sure,” said Morgan evenly.

“I believe there is one thing about her you don't know. And I don't think I'm the one to tell you about it.”

“We've seen each other at our best and at our worst. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

Mr. Belian cocked an eyebrow and peered at Morgan for another couple of minutes. Morgan continued to return the older man's gaze unwaveringly. “Very well. You have my permission to marry Gwenliani. But don't say I didn't warn you. And if you break her heart, rest assured that I will personally break your arm.”

Morgan smiled broadly. “I understand. And thank-you.” He bowed slightly, then politely excused himself.

Once Morgan had closed the door, Mr. Belian leaned back in his chair and chuckled. Morgan was going to be _very_ surprised. “Welcome to the family, Morgan,” said Mr. Belian softly. “And may The One have mercy on your soul.”

* * *

Morgan found Gwenliani descending the library steps. She wore a simple, yet elegant green dupioni silk dress that matched her eyes. It covered her shoulders, leaving her arms, upper back, and most of her creamy décolletage bare. The skirts were full, without being in the way, the hem line a practical two inches above the ground. Morgan found it quite attractive. On the other hand, that woman could dress in sack-cloth and ashes and still be alluring.

“Morgan!” She smiled warmly.

Morgan stepped up and kissed her briefly. “Good afternoon, my dear. You look particularly fetching today.”

She giggled. “You're in a good mood.” She placed a hand on Morgan's proffered arm and they began to stroll casually down the street.

“Why shouldn't I be? I had very promising conversation with your father earlier.”

“Oh? Do tell.” She took his arm and leaned lightly against him.

“He said yes.”

She giggled again. “Really? Because he usually says no. Did he make you squirm, though?”

“Oh, he tried.”

“But did he succeed?”

“Not from where I was standing. But you're welcome to ask for his opinion on the matter.”

“I'm...well, I'm not sure whether to be impressed or amused...or both.”

“Well, I have a decided advantage over all of those other men.”

“What's that?”

“The lady in question actually likes me.”

Gwenliani laughed.

“It also helps that both our families have grown up around each other. He did say something...odd, though. He says there's one thing I don't know about you.”

“Oh, I'm sure there are many things you don't know about me. You just...don't know it.”

Morgan laughed. “Oh, Gwena, I do so love you.” He kissed her on the cheek.

Together, they walked back toward the Belian Law Offices, chatting about their respective days. Both of then had run their usual errands. Morgan had been delivering spells and making other wizard-related house-calls. Gwenliani had been doing some legal research for her father, some historical reading for herself, and going to market. Gwenliani turned to Morgan as they approached the building's front door. Morgan turned to face her, then made a descending motion.

“Wait,” said Gwenliani. Her expression was serious, bordering on grave. “I think I know what you're doing. Before you do, there's something else about me you need to know. Meet me at the far end of the lake a half-hour before sunset. Look for me where the trees meet the water's edge near the mouth of Willow Creek. There's...something I must show you. Something only my mother, father, and siblings have ever seen. It's something you have to see before you follow up on that conversation.”

“What is it?”

“You'll see. And you might not believe me if I told you.” She kissed him. “Trust me.” At that, she turned and passed through the door, smiling once over her shoulder.

* * *

Morgan felt restless the entire rest of the day. He felt something was amiss. He wasn't sure if it had to do with the thought that his lady had been keeping something important from him, or what he'd been told were the usual nerves that accompanied proposing marriage. Somehow, Morgan didn't feel particularly bothered by that last bit.

“Is something wrong, son?” said Sophie as they were cleaning up after supper.

“Erm...not really. Why?”

“You're agitated. I can tell. I can _always_ tell.”

Morgan sighed. “Well...it's about Gwena.”

Sophie stopped what she was doing and raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What about her? Did her father say no?”

“Actually, he said yes. It's what he...and she...haven't told me that's bothering me.”

“Oh...that.”

“You know?”

“Well, no, probably not. But believe me, if I can get over your father's emotional and psychological baggage, you can handle whatever it is.”

“I wish Father were here.”

“I know. But he won't be back until tomorrow. Or tonight, but I wouldn't count on that.”

“I'm meeting Gwena before dusk out at the lake.”

“And that's when she's going to tell you about whatever it is?”

“Yes.”

“That's just as well. Your father's the greatest wizard in two worlds, but I don't trust his advice on women any further than I can throw him. Besides, if you're old enough to marry, then you're old enough to handle whatever surprises come along with it. Now, go!” She made a shooing motion. “Go learn whatever it is.”

Morgan smiled and kissed his mother on the cheek. “What would I do without you, Mother?”

“You mean besides not exist?” She tousled his hair and smiled as he protested.


	3. In Which Morgan Makes an Astonishing Discovery About His Lady

Morgan stood on a rock at one side of Willow Creek. He hopped off it, levitating across the crystal-clear water, his feet hovering a few inches above the surface. He alighted gingerly on the opposite bank and bounced from rock to rock until he reached the tree line a few feet away.

“You're late,” said Gwenliani. She stepped out of the shadows, smiling at him. A light-weight, rusty-orange linen cloak hung from her shoulders and wrapped around the rest of her, even though the evening was warm. Her feet were bare.

“A wizard is never late,” Morgan protested. “Neither is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.” After a few moments, they both broke into laughter and fell into each other's embrace.

“So,” continued Morgan, “what is it you wanted to show me?”

The smile faded from Gwenliani's face. “You...might not like what you see.”

He grasped both her arms gently through the fabric. “Whatever it is, I can deal with it. Or I'll learn to deal with it.”

Gwenliani sighed. “If you say so.” Morgan could tell from the strain in her voice that something was clearly bothering her. She pulled back, then turned around and stepped up to the water's edge. She looked up at the sun, which was still at least two diameters above the horizon. “Good,” she said. “There's still plenty of direct sun. You'll want to see me in all my...glory.”

She shrugged off the cloak and tossed it into a rock. Only then did Morgan notice that Gwenliani wasn't wearing anything else at all. He felt his jaw drop. He watched her step into the water, her back to him. Her firm buttocks merged elegantly with her muscular legs and her slender waist. He could see a hint of the curve of her breasts through the gap between her smooth torso and muscular arms. Surely no artist could adequately capture that unique combination of raw power and femininity. The sight of her did things to him he hadn't known could be done.

He watched her drop smoothly and gracefully to her knees, the water rising nearly to her buttocks.

“Gwena? What are you doing?”

She sighed. “You'll see. Whatever you do, don't come in after me.”

“What...?”

“Stay...here.” Then she lay face-down in the water, and slipped below the surface.

Morgan waited. When several minutes had passed and she still hadn't resurfaced, he began to panic. He knew she was a strong swimmer, the strongest he'd ever seen.

She held several swimming records and remained undefeated in the women's 5000-cubit butterfly, and always medaled in everything else. It was widely rumored she could take the men's competitions, too. In fact, the woman took to water like, well, like a fish. But there were limits to how long one could hold one's breath.

He quickly waded out to where she'd submerged, and looked frantically about, but she was nowhere to be found. “Gwena? Gwena!” He almost screamed her name.

“Yes, Morgan?” came her calm voice from behind him.

Morgan whirled around to see her sitting waist-deep in the water a few strides away. “Gwena!” He sloshed over to her, willing himself not to stare at her bare, perfect breasts. “I thought you'd...”

“Morgan, stop!”

He froze.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't mean it like that. It's just...you almost stepped on me.”

Morgan looked down. His jaw dropped so far, he thought it might actually fall off. There, just below the water, where Gwenliani's legs should have been, was a great fish tail, its scales gleaming in the last rays of sunlight, a single, shallowly-forked fin held horizontally at its end.

His eyes dwelt on the tail for some time. He looked up toward her face, only to be side-tracked by her bare, perfect breasts. He wrenched his gaze up to her face while he tried to form words, then looked back at her tail...then her bosom again...then her face. His eyes made three additional such tours before settling on her face.

“Gwena! You're...you're a mermaid?!”

“Surprised?”

Morgan nodded. “Very. That's...well, that's the very last thing I'd have expected.”

“What you expecting?”

“Actually, I had no idea. Maybe some physical deformity you've managed to keep hidden all these years. I don't know. Just not...a tail!”

Gwenliani smiled weakly and raised the tail up out of the water. Morgan took a couple of steps forward and peered closely at it. The scales were small and feminine and the same sea-foam green as her eyes, but peppered with tiny orange flecks that gave the tail a warm glow. From the way it curved, Morgan could tell Gwenliani didn't simply have her legs encased in the tail. Legs didn't bend that way.

“It's magnificent!” He extended his hand, then paused and looked into her eyes. “May I...touch your tail?”

Gwenliani nodded.

Morgan reverently touched the edge of her fin. He didn't flinch. Instead, he caressed it the way he would her hand, sliding his hand upward and tracing it with his fingertips until he reached the fin's tip and gently fingered a few of its internal rays. “Can you feel that?”

“Yes.”

Morgan continued to run his fingers along Gwenliani's fin, following its edge to its base where it joined the scaly part of her tail. Morgan hesitated slightly before running his fingertips along the scales. “Can you feel this, too?”

“Yes.”

“How does it feel?”

“Different. Not like it does when you hold my hand. The feel of your touch against my scales is different, too. It's more...ack! That tickled!”

Morgan froze and cocked his head.

“That's...my lateral line. It's very sensitive.”

Morgan smiled. “Is it, now?” he teased. He stroked that part of her tail again and she twitched. “I'm sorry. I really shouldn't torment you. I wonder, though, what other parts of you are ticklish.”

“Morgan!” They both laughed. “And, yes, I do feel that, but mostly as vibrations. Otherwise, it's...difficult to describe.”

Morgan stroked her scales some more and then let his hand slip upward as he caressed her other fin lobe. “You're...a bit slimy.”

Gwenliani's smile faded from her face and she turned away. Morgan waded over and knelt down next to her. “Gwena? What's wrong?”

She looked into his eyes. “Nothing. That's what's wrong. I...I'm a little confused.” She lowered her tail back into the water. “I...wasn't expecting your reaction.”

“What _were_ you expecting?”

“I don't know. Fear? Revulsion? But instead...you seem to appreciate my tail. It felt like...” She took a deep breath and shivered. “...like you were starting to make love to me.”

Morgan stepped over toward her head end. “Gwena, I love your tail. It's gorgeous!” He gently lifted her chin and kissed her tenderly. “And if we were married...that _is_ how I'd make love to you.”

Gwenliani blinked. “It...really doesn't bother you?”

“Of course not. It's unexpected, that's for sure...but it's just one more thing that makes you unique. And I love that about you, too. It's...a little distracting, actually. In fact, I'm not sure which distracts me more...your tail, or your bosom.” He looked down and then back to her eyes. Morgan grinned. “Actually...it's a bit...well...erm...” He grabbed her and kissed her passionately. After a couple of minutes he let her up for breath. “It's a bit...that.”

“Oh!” She grinned. “I love you, Morgan.”

“Now about that question I started to ask earlier.” Morgan leaned back slightly and took one of her hands in one of his. “Gwenliani Rianu Belian, I've loved you all my life. Or, at least as long as I've known you. That love has changed as we've grown up together. You're the most beautiful, interesting, intelligent, amazing, and...erm...scaly...woman I've ever known. I really can't imagine not being with you for the rest of my life.” He put his other hand into a pocket and brought out a ring set with an interesting-looking stone, one that shimmered with the distinctive opalescence of an ingarium silicate, but with some blue-green inclusions that nearly matched Gwenliani's scales. “I love you, Gwenliani. I always have. I always will. Will you marry me?”

Gwenliani began to tear up almost before Morgan had finished talking. “Oh, you dear, sweet, wonderful man. You know all my secrets and you still love me and still want me. I don't think I can say that about anyone else...except maybe for my father. I love you too, Morgan. So, yes. I will marry you!”

Morgan slipped the ring onto Gwenliani's left ring finger, picked her up out of the lake, and twirled her around. Water flew everywhere. They kissed. She started to slide downward. Morgan put a hand down to support her.

“Erm...dearest?” said Morgan. “You're...slippery.”

“I know,” she said.

“I'm having trouble holding onto you. I...” He lost his grip on her, tried to recover, but lost his balance as well.

The two of them topped into the water with a great splash. They came up, Morgan spluttering. Gwenliani spewed a generous amount of water playfully into Morgan's face. They broke out into laughter, then sat there for several minutes kissing. Gwenliani splashed her tail happily and Morgan grinned at her.

“Well,” he said at last, “this certainly is different. I never would have guessed.” He gazed into his fiancee's eyes and she back into his. “I do love your smile.”

She giggled and kissed him again.

“I could stay here and do this all night,” he said.

“So could I,” she admitted. “But if we did, I daresay we'd risk starting someone, as your father puts it.”

Morgan tipped his head back and laughed. “How would that work, anyway? I mean, with you in mermaid form?”

“Aquatic form,” corrected Gwenliani.

“Aquatic form, then.”

Gwenliani shrugged. “I don't know. Probably the same way as in terrestrial form.”

Morgan considered that for a moment. “Once we're married...I'd like to try it. Actually, I'd like to try it right now.”

Gwenliani's eyes went wide.

“But,” said Morgan, “you deserve to experience all that for the first time on your...our...wedding night. I love you too much to deprive you of that.”

Gwenliani raised an eyebrow. “You...you really do find me attractive like this? You're not just saying that?”

“Of course I do! I think it's wonderful! It also gives us somewhere else other than the ceiling to...you know.”

Gwenliani blushed.

“Gwena, if you had any idea how much sheer willpower it's taking me to behave myself, I think even your father would be impressed.”

Gwenliani giggled. “Oh, Morgan. I don't deserve you.”

“I think it's the other way 'round, actually.” They both giggled and kissed some more. “You...can change back, can't you?” said Morgan, changing the subject. “Not that I'd mind, it's just that...well, a lot of things would be a bit awkward if you didn't have legs.”

“Of course I can change back, silly. You didn't really think this was the first time I've done this, did you? You know all those times I go away for a couple of weeks or a month?”

Morgan nodded.

“This...” She lifted her tail out of the water and waggled her fin. “...is why. I have to go back and forth from one form to the other.”

“What happens if you don't?”

“I can stay in aquatic form indefinitely. But if I remain in terrestrial form for too long...I'll die.”

Morgan cringed. “Then it's a good thing you've shared this with me.”

“But it also has phenomenal healing properties. Remember when I broke my leg six years ago?”

“How could I forget. Mother wanted to heal you, but _your_ mother would have none of it. I recall all of us being rather cross about it at the time. But then you came back a month later all better. We just figured you'd gone to someone else.”

“No. Mother simply put me in the water. The transformation each way completely rearranges everything from the waist down. There's nothing else like it. I can't even compare it to transmogrification. It's hard to explain.”

“So does this have anything to do with why you're the most unconventional woman I've ever met?”

“It has everything to do with that. I'm not a typical woman...as you can see. Never have been. So I never really saw the need to try to be one. It's given me a great deal of freedom to be myself.”

Morgan thought about that for a moment and smiled. “Thank-you.”

“For what?”

“For being you. For not trying to be someone or something you're not. And for being willing to risk...erm...showing yourself to me.”

Gwenliani raised an eyebrow.

“Well...you _are_ naked.”

She shrugged.

“You do know what that's doing to me, don't you?”

“I have some idea.” She grinned at him. “But believe me, I could easily be at least a dozen body-lengths away before you'd have your shirt even halfway unbuttoned. But otherwise...” She leaned closer to Morgan and kissed him. “...I'm looking forward to that.”

“That brings up another question. You know how Father thinks you and I should elope. And you know how I've been trying to avoid making that decision. But now there's another decision that never would have entered my mind.”

“What's that?”

Morgan smiled. “Our first time...aquatic or terrestrial?”

Gwenliani thumped Morgan playfully on the arm. “You're incorrigible, you know that?”

“So,” said Morgan, changing the subject again, “how do you change back?”

“I have to haul myself out of the water and dry off.”

“Oh. Would you like a hand with that?”

“Oh, no. I think I can manage. If you could walk over and hold my cloak for me, though, I'd appreciate it.” With that, she rose up out of the water and levitated over to shore. Morgan rose, too, and floated after her, reaching down to scoop up the cloak from the shoreline.

She gently alighted on the ground, settling onto where her buttocks would be in terrestrial form. He watched as her tail split in two and, over the course of several minutes, transformed back into legs. Morgan threw the cloak over her. She adjusted it as she stood up.

“Does it...hurt?” he asked.

“Not really. It feels weird, though. And no, I don't know how to describe it.”

“Will our children be able to do that?”

“I have no idea.”

“You're amazing,” said Morgan. “And I'm marrying a mermaid!”

Gwenliani cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure you didn't propose to me just because I'm a mermaid?”

Morgan cocked his head. “Seriously, Gwena? I started to ask you just this afternoon, remember? You being a mermaid is just icing on the cake. And while most people might say I'm marrying a mermaid named Gwenliani, I don't see it that way. To me, I'm marrying a phenomenal woman named Gwenliani...who also just happens to be a mermaid. I've loved you before I knew about you being a mermaid. I'm thrilled to be marrying you...mermaid or not.”

Gwenliani rested her hand on Morgan's cheek. “You just keep saying that, Morgan darling. Oh, and there's another thing. You know how I have to periodically change back into aquatic form and that it dramatically rearranges everything? Well, whenever it is we conceive a child...any child...there's going to be a point fairly early in the pregnancy when I'll have to retake aquatic form...and stay that way until the baby's born.”

Morgan looked at her. “Oh.”

“And each birth will have to take place underwater.”

Morgan cocked his head. “If I didn't know any better, I'd almost think you were trying to talk me out of marrying you.”

“I just want you to know what you're getting into.”

Morgan grinned. “I know _who_ I'm getting into.”

Gwenliani rolled her eyes. “That's not what I meant and you know it. Men!”

Morgan grabbed her and kissed her. “Then I'll build you a pond...or an indoor swimming pool. Or we can live on the lake-shore. Or all three. We should share our good news, shouldn't we?”

“Of course! Oh, would you turn around, please? I'd like to put my clothes back on. It certainly wouldn't do to go back into town like this. Not that I personally mind. I just don't feel like trying to explain what didn't happen to everyone who will assume it did anyway...if that makes sense.”

“Of course.” Morgan turned around. “So you didn't have a problem with me seeing you naked while in aquatic form, but you do in terrestrial form?”

“I hate wearing clothes while in aquatic form...I mean, _really_ hate it...beyond the telling of it. I don't know why, but I'd almost rather pull out a fingernail than wear anything while in aquatic form.”

“Oh.” Morgan looked around as Gwenliani bounced over to him. “Where are your shoes?”

“I wasn't wearing any. I'll be going around barefooted for a couple of days. Turning my feet into a fin gives me a severe short-term aversion to shoes.”

“Then it's a good thing I like your feet.”

Gwenliani laughed. “Is there anything about me you _don't_ like?”

“I suppose if I think long and hard enough, I might be able to come up with something.”

“Morgan, you're funny.”

Gwenliani took Morgan's arm and together, they floated across the lake back toward town.

“So your whole family are mer-people?” said Morgan after a minute.

“No, just Mother. Which I suppose makes me and my siblings half-breeds.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“No, not really. That's just how it is.”

“Fair enough. How'd you keep from changing all those times we went cliff diving?”

“Easy. I just didn't inhale.”

Morgan laughed.

“What? Do you have any idea how many bathing suits I'd have ruined changing back and forth all day?”

“And you think _I'm_ funny.” They both laughed.


	4. Which Tells of the Sharing of News

Gwenliani thrust her left hand toward her mother and grinned. Her father cocked an eyebrow at Morgan. “Did she show you?” said Mrs. Belian.

“Yes,” said Morgan, “she did.”

“And?” said Mr. Belian.

Morgan shrugged. “She's gorgeous!”

“We... _are_ talking about...” said Mr. Belian.

“Yes, Daddy,” said Gwenliani, “he _is_ talking about my tail.”

Mrs. Belian laughed in a particularly ladylike way and Mr. Belian nearly bellowed.

“I was wrong about you, Morgan,” said Mr. Belian. “I thought you might take one look at her and run screaming.”

“Daddy!” said Gwenliani irritably.

“It's just that I remember the first time I saw your mother that way. It scared the hell out of me. I got over it eventually, but it was...never mind.” He turned back to Morgan. “Are you sure it wasn't like that with you? Even a little bit?”

Morgan laughed. “No. I was surprised, of course. But, no, I wasn't the least bit alarmed. I actually found it...erm...very attractive. I know that's not exactly the sort of thing a father wants to hear a man say about his daughter, but it's the truth. Besides, I love her too much for anything like that to bother me. Your daughter has a very beautiful tail and I love it.”

Gwenliani blushed and squeezed Morgan's arm.

“Did she tell you about having to go into the water every so often?”

“She did.”

“You do realize that once you're married, she'll be _your_ problem.”

“Gwenliani is _not_ a problem!” Morgan protested. “Making sure she can get to the water when she needs it, even if I have to physically carry her, is likely to be inconvenient and possibly frustrating at times, I'm sure. She's a wonderful woman, my fiancée, and I love her. End of story. But I do have one burning question...why keep it a secret?”

“It's...complicated,” said Mr. Belian. “I'll leave it at that.”

“Hmm,” said Morgan. “Should we keep this from my family, too? I mean, it's been your secret, so I think it appropriate to defer to you on the matter.”

“Thank-you, Morgan,” said Mr. Belian, “that's very considerate of you. I think we can trust your mother. As for your father...while he's an interesting man, I don't feel he's a security risk. Go ahead and tell him, too.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Belian, “welcome to the family, Morgan.” She hugged him. Then Mr. Belian shook his hand firmly.

“We should go tell my family, too,” said Morgan.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Belian, “you go do that. We'll have plenty of time for everything else later.”

“Just bring her back in one piece,” said Mr. Belian, “and don't do anything I wouldn't.”

Gwenliani rolled her eyes. “Daddy! Just because we're engaged doesn't mean we're any more or less likely to get ourselves into that kind of trouble.”

“I know,” said Mr. Belian. “That's what concerns me.”

They all laughed and Morgan and Gwenliani headed for the Pendragon residence.

* * *

The Pendragon residence was in chaos. Morgan's family was there, of course. His family from Wales was there, too, and they were all in a state of extreme agitation. They also had luggage with them.

“Erm,” said Morgan, “what's all this?”

“You!” said Megan irritably. It was hard for Morgan to take her seriously with her pink and green hair, but her tone of voice compelled him to overlook it.

“Me?”

“Yes! Well...you and Neil.”

“What about me and Neil?”

Neil stepped up. “The law's on our tail.”

“What? Why?”

“It's about that engine.”

“It's just a big, strange-looking cylinder. Why are they so upset about it?”

“It's not just a cylinder, cousin,” said Neil. “It's an engine...a very expensive engine.”

“But you helped me acquire it and bring it here!”

“That's because my friend Rhys said it was all above board. Honestly, I don't know what went wrong. All I know is that the Americans are upset about it and the RAF, both State Departments, _and_ Interpol are out to get us. This is the only place we knew to go where no one would find us. And that's only because hardly anybody knows this world exists.”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “Splendid,” he said sarcastically. “Father's going to throw a fit about this, you know?”

“Well,” said Megan, “he's just going to have to deal with it.”

“Does Mother know?” said Morgan.

“Yes,” said Sophie as she rounded the corner pushing a floating tea tray, “yes, I do. It's quite inconvenient, let me tell you. But they're welcome to stay with us until we can sort it all out.” She rested the tray on the coffee table and motioned to it. Everyone stepped over and took some tea.

“Gwenliani, dear,” said Sophie, “would you like some, too? I wasn't expecting you.”

“Oh, no, that's not necessary,” said Gwenliani. “Morgan and I just thought we'd share the news. But we weren't expecting you to have company.”

“Neither was I,” said Sophie. “But what news is that?”

“Morgan asked me to marry him. And I said yes!”

“Oh, how wonderful!” squealed Sophie. She rushed over and hugged her son and daughter-in-law-to-be. “I'm so happy for you both!”

“And there's one other thing,” said Gwenliani, “but I'm not sure anyone else but you and Wizard Howl are supposed to know.”

Sophie tilted her head so that her ear was near Gwenliani's mouth.

“I'm a mermaid,” Gwenliani whispered.

Sophie drew back and abruptly turned to Gwenliani. She blinked. “Really?!”

Gwenliani nodded.

Sophie looked at Morgan. “Did you know about this?”

“Not until early this very evening,” said Morgan with a smile. “You should see her tail. It's quite striking. I like it a lot.”

Sophie smiled back. “Good. Because that's a very special thing...one that shouldn't be taken lightly. Now, Morgan, would you be so kind as to escort your fiancée back home? I could use a hand with our guests.”

“Oh, I could help, if you wouldn't mind,” said Gwenliani. “It would be no trouble. I've been wanting to meet them anyway.”

“Aren't your parents expecting you?”

“Yes, but I could mirror-call them. I think they'd understand. And it's not like Morgan and I are unchaperoned.”

Sophie considered that for a moment. “Very well. If they allow it, then I'll allow it. I always enjoy your company anyway, and I know the children do, too.”

“Thank-you.” Gwenliani walked over to the corner and tapped on the frame of a magic mirror that hung on the wall. After a few moments, her mother's face appeared in it. One of these days, thought Gwenliani, that's going to be _my_ face...or close to it.

“Hello, Gwenny, dear.”

“Hello, Mother. Morgan's family from Wales is here...all of them. And Sophie...Missus Pendragon...could use some help. I volunteered...that is, if you and Father wouldn't mind.”

“And how many of them are there?”

Gwenliani looked over her shoulder. “Five adults and three children. That's in addition to Morgan's brother and sister.”

“Very well,” said Mrs. Belian. “Do keep us posted though, won't you?”

“Of course, Mother.”

“Have fun...if possible.”

“I love you, Mother.”

“I love you, too, dear.”

Gwenliani tapped the frame and the mirror resumed its normal reflective function. She walked back to the middle of the room. Sophie and Morgan were bustling about, doing what appeared to come naturally. Gwenliani didn't know what to do. Maybe staying was a bad idea.

A little girl with pink and green hair trotted up to Gwenliani and gazed up at here with big, blue eyes. Gwenliani knelt down. “Hello there,” she said. “You must be Dillena.”

The girl nodded.

“My name's Gwenliani. I'm going to marry your cousin Morgan.”

Dillena smiled, then hugged Gwenliani. Motion caught her attention and she looked up at a woman with similarly-colored hair. Gwenliani rose.

“You must be Missus Perry,” said Gwenliani, extending her hand. Megan took it and Gwenliani nodded over it. “Gwenliani Belian,” she said. “I'm Morgan's fiancée.”

Megan's eyebrow rose slightly. “Oh?” There was a certain amount of strain in her voice.

“He'd told me a lot about you. I like your hair.”

Megan's eyebrow rose even more. “Thank-you...I think. Did he tell you why it's like this?”

“Yes. It's...I'm sorry, Missus Perry, but the way Sophie tells it, it's a rather funny story.”

“Did either of them tell you it's permanent?”

“Yes. Morgan was five when he did that. And your daughter was born with the same hair color. She's adorable, by the way.”

Megan peered at Gwenliani.

“Would you care to sit down, Missus Perry?” said Gwenliani. “You're tense.”

Megan considered that for a minute, then nodded.

Gwenliani felt a tug at her skirts. She looked down into four small faces. Dillena, Orla, and Neil's son Arthur, and daughter Roweni gazed up at her.

“Gwenliani?” said Orla. “Are you really a mermaid?”

Gwenliani blinked.

“I heard you tell Mama.”

“Mermaids have tails,” said Dillena.

“Where's your tail?” said Roweni.

“Um,” said Gwenliani, “I have to go into the water and then breathe some before that happens.”

“I want to see your tail,” said Orla.

“Yes, show us your tail!” said Dillena and Roweni.

“Tail!” said Arthur. Soon, all four children were chanting, “Tail! Tail! Tail!'

“What's all this?” said a male voice from the home's magical door. All heads swiveled toward Wizard Howl.

Everyone started talking at once. After a couple of minutes, Howl bellowed, “ _SI-LENCE!_ ” When all the noise had died down, Howl continued. “So let me get this straight. Neil and Morgan stole an engine from an American F-Fifteen Eagle fighter jet and brought it here.” He looked across the room. “Morgan, did you move that wall?”

“Um...yes, Father.”

“One almost can't tell you did. The wallpaper's barely out of place. Excellent work. Couldn't have done better myself.”

Sophie rolled her eyes at that.

“Then,” continued Howl, “Morgan turned it into an airborn motorcyle, took the Mayor's daughter on a joyride on the hover-mule and then immediately took Gwenliani for a joyride on the engine. How fast does that go, by the way?”

“I think I got up to Mach-six.”

“That's my boy!”

Sophie cleared her throat.

“And now,” said Howl, “the entire Perry family's on the run from MI-Six, the US Department of Defense, _and_ Interpol. Morgan, I thought you were just going to make a copy.”

“That _is_ the copy,” said Morgan.

“Then I don't know why they're so bend out of shape about it,” said Howl. “Might have been easier to just swipe the whole plane.”

“What?” said Gareth.

“How would I have fit it through the door?” said Morgan.

“Why not fold it?”

Morgan smacked himself in the forehead. “Of course! Silly me!” He paused to think. “Then I'd have had to strip all that other stuff off of it.”

“Or just rearrange it to look like a dragon,” said Howl helpfully.

Morgan laughed. “Father, I love your style! Maybe we should do that next.”

“Or not!” said Sophie.

“So in addition,” said Howl, “Morgan and Gwena are engaged _and_ Gwena's a mermaid. Am I missing anything?”

“That pretty much covers it,” said Gareth.

Mari looked at Gwenliani. “She's a mermaid? Really?”

Megan thumped Gareth on the arm. “I _told_ you mermaids were real.” She peered at Gwenliani. “No tail, eh?”

“Tail! Tail! Tail!” said the children.

“That's awesome!” said Neil. “My cousin's marrying a mermaid!”

“I won't be convinced until I see the tail, though,” said Gareth.

“You know,” said Howl, “the two of you could make a fortune in marine salvage.”

“Who has a tail?” came a crackly-sounding voice.

Megan turned to see what looked like a blue flame hovering in the air and gasped. “What the hell is that?”

“Pleased to meet you, too,” said the voice.

“Hello, Calcifer,” said Morgan.

“Don't worry, sister,” said Howl, “that's just Calcifer.”

“He's a fire demon,” added Orla.

“Who has the tail?” repeated Calcifer.

“Erm...I do,” said Gwenliani.

Calcifer floated over to Gwenliani and peered at her for several moments. “I thought there was something different about you...something magical.” He turned to Morgan. “You hold onto her, do you hear? With both hands! If you _ever_ let her go, I will personally reduce whatever's left once her family's done with you to ash. Do you understand?”

Morgan nodded.

“Wait,” said Gwenliani. “You all know I'm a mermaid...and none of you have a problem with that?”

“Why would it be a problem?” said Mari.

“Tail! Tail! Tail!” chanted the children.

“Maybe,” said Morgan, “we can do that later. It's been a long day for everyone.”

“Aww!” said the children.

Gwenliani sighed. “Children,” she said, “how about I'll show you all my tail if you all promise to be very good and behave yourselves.”

They all nodded vigorously.

“Good. Shall we discuss it again in the moring?”

They all nodded again. Gwenliani gave them all hugs. She looked at Morgan and grinned. He grinned back. She stood up and Morgan slid an arm around her waist. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. Things were going to be very interesting indeed.


End file.
